


Can you imagine? If we'd had this?

by XIIIBlackCatXIII



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, coffee instead of tea :(, gertrude and leitner are in a tape not actually there, god ive wanted to use that tag since i first saw it, martin has a crush on jon, mentions of the other entities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XIIIBlackCatXIII/pseuds/XIIIBlackCatXIII
Summary: What's this?A rewrite where they actually get Gertrude's tapes?Yeah.Look I'm just trying new things okay-Season 5 spoilers, and, well, spoilers of like the whole thing so I wouldn't recommend reading this unless you're caught up-
Comments: 46
Kudos: 103





	1. March 11th, 2016

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna lie, I don't know what I'm doing-
> 
> About 1000 of these words are pulled directly from Gertrude's tape from 161, so most of the italics aren't my own-

Jon stared at the dusty box of tapes Sasha had just dumped on the desk with a triumphant cry as though it would bite him.

His fears aren't totally unfounded, it's covered with so many cobwebs that a whole family of spiders could be hidden deep in one of the corners.

He leans away from it slightly as he gives Sasha a rather unimpressed look, "and this relates to the Michael Kane case, how?" He asks, hoping his apprehension of the box isn't visible.

"Nothing, but!" She cut him off before he could even protest, "look!" 

She twisted the box dramatically, and Jon wrinkled his nose at the cloud of dust that was thrown into the air.

"I'm looking at?"

Sasha sighed, and flicked Jon's glasses down from his forehead.

He shot her a glare as he picked them back up from the desk and put them on, squinting at the box.

With his glasses actually in front of his eyes, Jon could see a faint scrawl on the side of the box, "'for the future Archivist'?" 

He gave Sasha a suspicious look, which she countered with a deadpan look of her own.

"Did you write that?" Tim popped up from wherever he'd been, looking far too ruffled for an Archival assistant and Jon scowled at him.

"Of course not!"

"Which is why it's important!" Sasha chimed in, as she smoothed down some of Tim's hair, much to his disgust.

"And where did you find them?" Jon asked, ignoring the childish slap fight that had broken out in front of him.

Sasha paused with her hand pushing Tim's face to the side. Slowly she pulled away, and Tim mussed his hair purposely while stepping out of her reach with a pout.

"Well," Sasha began, with a look on her face that Jon couldn't quite parse out, "I was going to… see Elias about travel expenses," the slight pause was enough of a tell that Jon wasn't surprised when Tim darted to their aptly named 'crime board' and added another tally mark under Sasha's name, "but it turns out he wasn't in his office at all, apparently there was some trouble in the library that he needed to see to," Tim added a tally mark under his own name, and Jon really didn't want to know. 

Unfortunately, Tim wanted to tell, "there was this attractive woman who asked me to cause some trouble in the library and who am I to say no?"

Jon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose - if Tim hadn’t told him then this wouldn’t be something he has to talk to him about later - as Sasha continued, "well, Elias had left his office completely unlocked," Tim added another mark to Sasha's collection, "so I went in to uh. Leave him a note." 

She stopped speaking then, her face thoughtful, and Jon was about to prompt her when she shook her head and continued herself, "I found them locked in the back of a cabinet and figured he wouldn't notice their absence with how much other shit he had piled around it."

Jon moved his glasses back up to his forehead, and put his face in his hands.  
Tim and Sasha shared a slightly concerned look before Jon spoke again, quiet and muffled by his hands, “put them back.”

Tim scoffed.

“Jon,” Sasha started, “if I were to try and put them back now, I would have to tell Elias everything, and then I’d be fired, and then you’d be without my skills.”  
  


Jon looked at her with one eye, “such as your skills of breaking into our bosses office?”  
  


She shrugged, “and getting Tim to actually do some work.”

Jon’s shoulders shook, as though laughing or crying, but he made no sound, "okay. Okay," he moved his hands away from his face and folded his arms, "you can return them once Elias has left tonight."

Sasha, to her credit, did not roll her eyes.

Tim though, rolled his eyes dramatically, rolling his whole body into a flop onto the desk, one hand resting on the top of the box, putting his pouting face right up to Jon's unimpressed one, "but since we're already _here,_ " he inches closer to Jon, causing him to lean further back, and distracting him from the tape Tim has filtched from the top of the box and handed to Sasha, "we might as well see what they've got to say!"

Jon jerked to the side, and grabbed the box, clutching it to his chest, "no!"

Tim leaned back, grinning like the Cheshire cat as Sasha waved the stolen tape at him.

Jon pouted for only a moment before he worked his face back to the blank mask he usually keeps.

He briefly considered attempting to get the tape from Sasha, but she was far taller than him and he knew that Tim was more than willing to rugby tackle him to the ground in a completely unprofessional move that would leave him aching for a few days.

Instead, he takes the box he's clutching, and locks it into his office, giving Sasha a look as he pockets the key and makes a mental note to not leave the door unguarded.

Sasha and Tim were already sitting around a tape recorder, leaving a chair across from them for Jon.

Tim had a single sheet of paper, and a pencil in front of him, which he tapped with a wink when he realised Jon had noticed it, "gonna take some notes, so we remember what to tell Martin when he's feeling better!"

Jon knew this was a lie, Tim needed to be doing something with his hands to be able to concentrate on audio, and while he may take _some_ notes, most of that page would end up filled with doodles, and besides, he could text Martin the information anyway, just because the man was ill didn't mean he couldn't receive messages and go back through them later.

"Shall we just get this gross misconduct over with."

"Alright, alright," Sasha hit the play button, and the air between them was filled with the static of an old tape, before a woman's voice came through.

_“Right. If you’re listening to this, then it is likely that-”_ there’s a pause and she sighs.

(“Is that-” “Tim, shut up.”) 

_“No. Let’s not beat around the bush. If you’re listening to this, it means I’m dead. And you have been chosen to be my replacement as Head Archivist.”_

(“It is!” “Shush!”)

_“Hopefully, this means you, Sasha, but if someone else is hearing this, and Elias has made a different choice for some reason, then these words are still very much intended for you.”_

(“Sexism.” “Tim let’s not- ow!”)

_“Before I continue: It is very important to be absolutely clear this is not a joke. Nor is it any sort of prank, or game. Your colleagues have not convinced me to record this as an attempt to… haze you. This is completely serious. And very, very important for you to know.”_

(“She’d kill us instead of letting us convince her to-” “Tim.”)

_“If it is you I’m talking to, Sasha, hopefully your background in Artefact Storage will lend a certain degree of.. credence to my words. But others may have to take it on trust.”_

(“Well, technically she is-” “Tim!”)

_“All I can do is assure you I am deadly serious,”_ another pause wherein Gertrude sighs, _“so. The first thing you have to do is accept that you are in great danger, and will be for the rest of your life. There are now things that will actively be trying to kill you, due to your new role as Archivist, and Elias has plans for you that are little better.”_

(They are silent as Tim and Sasha stare at Jon.)

_“You will also be unable to relinquish the position or quit the Institute, finding you are supernaturally compelled to remain. In fact, it occurs to me that attempting to do so is probably the quickest and easiest way to establish the truth of what I am telling you, so I suggest you do so at the earliest possible opportunity.”_

(Tim scrawls an actual note between his spiralling doodles.)

_“Things you need to be aware of; there exists in our world supernatural entities of incredible power that reflect and feed on the fears of all living creatures, but most commonly humans. Many consider them gods, and while I believe that is far too simplistic a comparison, for our purposes here it is perhaps the most useful shorthand. They do not rule our world, but they do exercise considerable power, which they generally manifest in the form of monstrous beings that spread further fear- or, incarnations, those humans who have willingly, though not always knowingly, chosen to take on the power of these entities.”_

(Tim breathes in sharply, a small noise the others pretended not to notice.)

_“You, unfortunately, have unwittingly made the decision to become one of those incarnations. For the Institute serves a being variously known as: The Eye, It Knows You, The Beholding, The Ceaseless Watcher. It is the fear of being watched, and judged, and having all your secrets known. The Institute serves as a way for it to harvest the fears of the other entities, dragging out the suffering of those who come to give statements and- claiming their terror.”_  
(“The bitch who knows.”)

_“But, there is another part of being the Archivist. These.. beings, these.. gods of fear- their followers believe that they have… rituals. Grand projects which, if successful, would allow them to enter our world, reshaping it in- unthinkable ways. Molding it into a dimension where terror is as natural as gravity.”_

(“ _Fuck._ ”)

_“You are now one such ritual. I do not know the exact details of it, but be wary of whatever Elias asks you to do. Oh, yes. On the subject of Elias: Trust nothing he says. He was originally known as Jonah Magnus, the founder of this Institute, and I have known him also as James Wright, the previous head of this Institute.”_

(Three pairs of eyes darted to the closed door of the Archives.)

_“He has certain.. abilities of clairvoyance, which allow him to perceive out of any eye, real or symbolic, so be wary. Play ignorant as long as you can while you expand your own research.”_

(Tim, as nonchalantly as possible, reached behind himself and tore down the ‘hang in there kitty’ poster.)

_“I’ve managed to keep the Archives in a state of chaos for decades, as I believe his plan would benefit from their organization. But I leave that to your judgement. Certainly, the longer he is ignorant of how much you know, the better.”_  
(“Explains a lot.”)

_“Above all else: be ready. There are many things out there loyal to other powers which know your importance to the Eye, and will want. You. Dead. You are entering a new world, a place I’ve lived for most of my life. A place…”_ she sighs, _“a place that will often demand a high price from you. Pay it without hesitation, because one way or another, the world is now on your shoulders.”_

(Jon stares at the tape.)

Gertrude sighs again, _“I wish I had more time to explain it to you. But time is short, and hopefully my actions tonight will ensure that this tape never needs to see the light of day. But if you are hearing it, then- good luck. Do what you have to do,”_ Gertrude sighs heavily, but before any unfortunately familiar click emits from the recorder, there’s the sound of a door opening, and then a male voice speaks.

_“Are you finished?”_ He asks.

_“Jurgen! I told you to stay in the tunnels.”_ The sound of footsteps and a chair being pulled across the floor.

(“Jurgen? _Leitner,_ Jurgen?” “Jon you’re hysterical, shush.”)

_“Your message also told me it was urgent.”_

Gertrude’s voice is sharp, _“If Elias is watching right now-”_

_“- then your recording all that was meaningless anyway. Besides, I’m not afraid of him.”_

_“Bravado,”_ she chuckles, _“really?”_

_“Mmmmm- it’s not bravado-”_

_“We’re wasting time. Do you still have the Ruskin book?”_

(“This is like listening to my grandparents talk. Do you think they’re fucking?” “Tim I _really_ don’t want to think about that.”)

_“I do, though I don’t relish the thought of using it. Makes it rather hard to breathe, like your chest is being-”_

_“- do you know the gas main, a little way out in the tunnel?”_

_“I do.”_

_“I need you to move it.”_

Lietner hems and haws, _“Iiiii, ummmm. That’s. I mean it’s not just earth; there’s pipework, and all sorts of-”_

_“- find a way. I need it to be directly under the Institute, or at least closer.”_

_“I’m more likely to rupture it, and fill the place with gas.”_

Gertrude chuckles, _“Hm, that would also be acceptable.”_

(“Jesus, does she _want_ the place to blow up?”)

_“Mmm. I’ll do what I can,”_ Leitner sighs, _“When do you need it?”_

_“If my guess is right, the Church’s ritual should be collapsing any time now, so- immediately.”_

_“And if you’re wrong?”_

(“The end of the world?” “Shush!”)

_“Then a bit of gas will be the least of our worries.”_

_“…Right. What are you going to do?”_

_“Paper burns well,”_ there’s a sloshing sound of liquid, _“petrol burns better.”_

(“Holy _fuck?_ ”)

Leitner laughs as there’s the sound of the canister of petrol being set down again, _“I always forget your pyromaniac streak.”_

_(“Holy fuck!”)_

_“Mm. Remind me to tell you about Agnes sometime.”_

_“Right,”_ there’s a small pause, _“did you mean to leave the tape running?”_

“Oh, good grief. Forty years I’ve been using them, and I swear, I’ll nev-”

The tape clicks off.

The two archival assistants look at each other, and then towards their boss.

Jon’s face is blank, his mind running a mile a minute to try and process everything that he’s just heard.

Tim breaks the silence first, “Jon?”

There’s no response so Tim waves a hand in Jon’s face.  
  


Jon blinks, slowly looking up at Tim.

“Jon, are you alright?”

Jon blinks again, then shakes his head as though shaking water from his hair, “of course I am, that was a very convoluted prank.”  
His voice was neutral, but there was something in his eyes that left Sasha and Tim looking at each other worriedly.

“Jon, I really think-”

“Thank you Sasha, but we are done for tonight. And I recommend you two go home. I will see you on Monday morning.”

Quicker than the others could react, Jon was out of his seat with the tape recorder and unlocking his office door, and by the time Tim grabbed the handle it locked with a heavy click.

They waited a while to see if he’d emerge again, but Jon stayed resolutely in his office.

Eventually, the two packed up after tearing down anything with eyes on it, and left to go home.


	2. Of Worms and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang has an important conversation while Tim wears next to nothing.  
> I will not explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy pride and black lives matter.

The rest of Friday went by with neither Jon nor Martin answering any messages or calls, and Sasha and Tim were starting to get a little worried.

After Saturday came and went with the same lack of correspondence, Sasha arrived at Tim's flat near to eleven in the evening.

Tim opened the door, a satin robe draped from his shoulders as he leant in the doorway, "oh, Sasha, my dear, what brings you here at such an unsightly hour?"

Sasha rolled her eyes and pushed past him, dropping her bag onto the sofa, "I told you to put on clothes, not a sheet," she said, checking her phone for any new notifications.

Tim locked the door before moving to sit on the sofa to answer, "hey, I was naked before this."

"Thanks, I hate it."

Tim laughed, which turned into a yawn halfway through, "you're welcome. Still no news?"

She shook her head, and flopped onto the sofa next to him with a sigh, "I still think we should go to their places now."

Tim wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and getting a mouthful of hair for his troubles, "Sash, I love you, and so do they, but I am probably the only person who will continue to love you for random midnight visits.

Sasha snorted and gave him a tight hug for a moment, grounding herself, "alright, hows 6am then?"

"I will never forgive you if you wake me any time before 9am on a Sunday."

"I can live with that."

They sat in silence for a while, then Tim gave her a squeeze before standing up, "we'll go to Jon first, he'll be awake earlier and we can make him get Martin's bug too," he gave a reassuring smile, "now c'mon, beds big enough for two."

Sasha gave a tired laugh and took hold of Tim's outstretched hand, pulling herself up so he could lead her to the bedroom and they could get some sleep.

-

"Tim,  _ Tim,  _ wake up!"

"Wh- fuck, Sash, it's 4am!" 

Sasha held up her phone, a wild look in her eyes, "Jon called."

Tim sat upright, struggling with the duvet to get up.

-

Tim had been waiting by the door from the moment Sasha told him that Jon had called to say he was coming over, and it was important. He'd hung up on her before she could ask anything, and they'd immediately gotten up to wait, despite not knowing how long it would be.

Tim took to pacing, Sasha was making more coffee than was healthy.

When the first frantic knock came, Tim opened the door quickly to the sound of a mug smashing, and Sasha swearing.

Jon pushed his way in, dragging Martin behind him, and all but slammed the door shut after them.

"Martin! Jon what's-" Tim started to say as Sasha appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking at the three men in front of her, but Jon shushed him with a manic look in his eyes.

Jon was in the same clothes he'd been wearing when they saw him on Friday, and he looked, and smelled, like he hadn't washed or changed at all in that time. The bags under his eyes were deep and his long hair was put up in a messy ponytail that they knew would be a bitch to brush out, for all the knots in it, he gripped Martin's wrist with one hand, and clutched a laptop and notebook in his other.

Martin looked worse.

He was very pale, and looked like he'd been wearing the same clothes since they last saw him two weeks ago. He was curled in on himself, and looked like he'd lost weight, and his eyes darted around with an unhealthy intensity at every corner and crevice in the flat. The bags under his eyes were worse than Jon's, which no one had thought possible.

Jon still had hold of Martin's wrist, and as much as Tim would like to tease them about this, he was kind of concerned about his circulation.

Thankfully though, Jon had let go to grab hold of the sparse collection of photographs Tim had in his living room.

"H- hey, wh-" Tim looked to Sasha, lost, and she shrugged as she handed Martin a mug of steaming- probably coffee.

Jon was out of the room and Tim had no idea what was going on, but before he could go find his wayward boss, Jon came back, gave the room one last sweep, then collapsed onto the sofa, burying his head in his hands.

Martin sat on the far end, pulling his legs up to his chest.

Sasha moved to the kitchen and returned with a few more mugs of probably coffee, and sat down in the middle of the two. She tried to bring her legs up, but Tim's pyjamas were a bit too short on her, so she couldn't do it comfortably.

Tim forewent the sofa in favour of pulling his side table closer and sitting on that instead, facing the others, "Jon, Martin, what the fuck is going on?"

Martin only bit his lip, and shook his head, he was shaking. Jon let out a quiet, but slightly hysterical laugh from behind his hands.

Tim hadn't thought he'd be more worried about them after having them safe in his flat, but really, after Friday, he probably should've expected it.

Jon put his hands down, and stared at them to avoid looking at the others. He switched between being completely silent, and opening his mouth as if to start talking only to shut it again at such a frequency that Tim didn't feel like he could interject at a good moment.

So he didn't bother trying, "Jon, what happened, why do you two look like this, why didn't you answer your phone?"

Jon glanced up from his hands, then looked back down before Tim could meet his eyes. Tim knew it was just a comfort thing, but it still worried him considering he had helped him learn eye contact years before, and knew he only avoided it now when he was afraid.

He was about to prompt Jon again, when he started speaking, "after- after the tape I-" he fidgeted with the end of his shirt, which was already crumpled, "I listened to some more of the tapes, and I went back over some of the other statements too, and then Martin ran in because Prentiss held him captive and-"

" _Hold up!_ " Tim held out a hand, "Jesus shit Jon, slow down."

"I think we should all just stop, take a moment, a deep breath," Sasha suggested, and when Tim glanced at her, he saw Martin seemed even worse and winced for a moment, shutting his mouth.

Sasha very deliberately led them through some breaths, not stopping until Martin's stuttery breaths were more stable again.

It also seemed to help ground Jon's mind, and though he still fidgeted, his voice was much more firm as he asked, "can you feel him?"

Tim had to get his answer in before Sasha, so he spoke quickly, "are you saying you want to feel me?" His tone was light as he gestured to his body, where he had made sure to throw a t-shirt on before waiting for them.

His intent was hit, as Sasha groaned loudly, Martin let out a little giggle, and Jon finally looked at him. To glare at him, but hey, a win's a win.

_ “No.” _

Sasha interjected as Tim opened his mouth again, flinging a cushion at him to stop him from saying any more dumb shit, "you mean Elias, right?"

Tim is sure that the reaction in the room, where everyone tensed up and looked far more worried was one Elias was used to, so he didn't think that even if he was watching he'd be surprised.

Jon nodded once, sharp, "when I'm at the Institute, I almost always have a feeling of being watched when I record statements to the tapes. Outside of that, not so much, but the week after I put in my application for Head Archivist I felt it the whole time, watching me," he wrung his hands together, eyes darting over the room again, "obviously, at the time I didn’t know what it was, I thought it was nerves, but now-” he cut himself off, and Sasha pushed a mug of cooling coffee into his hands.

He sipped at it on autopilot, there was no way he was actually tasting it.

Martin’s mug was nearly untouched, as he didn’t like coffee so he would only sip at it when someone looked at it, just to be polite.

Sasha felt slightly bad at that, but it had taken her ten minutes to find the coffee, let alone where Tim may have hidden away the tea. She  _ will _ find it though, after they’ve sorted through all this, “Jon, I thought you didn’t believe that tape?” She asked, mostly just to hear him say it rather than actual confusion.

“I- it-” he took a purposeful swig of his drink, and choked as it went down the wrong pipe. Sasha gave him comforting pats on the back as Tim tried to not let his sleep deprivation turn his laughter hysterical. Martin looked torn between laughing and concern.

Jon composed himself as much as he could, the colour rising in his cheeks, and placed the mug on the sofa arm next to himself, “I- I  _ believed _ it, I just- I-” he glanced to the side, his eyes focused on Martin’s still shaking legs, “I was scared.”

The raw honesty surprised them, but Jon didn’t let them sit on it for long, pulling out his notebook with his scrawling handwriting that no one but him could read, “I went through some of the other tapes, I had to stop anytime it seemed as though I was being observed so the process took far longer than it should have, especially as I was rewinding and taking notes, and then I also went through some of the statements I had already recorded to see if they matched the patterns left in the tapes, and I am reasonably certain that case numbers 0122204 and 0070107 are results of The Stranger, and case-”

“Jon,” Sasha stopped him short, “The Stranger?” 

He nodded, “a- a god- an  _ entity _ , from listening to the tapes I think- I think there’s at least thirteen? There may be more and I don’t even know if I got them all right, for a while I thought The Stranger and the circus were separate be-” Sasha stopped him with a hand on his arm, and nodded towards Tim.

At the mention of the circus, Tim had jolted, breathing in sharply, and was now sitting there stock still as his thoughts raced, centered on  _ The Stranger.  _

Sasha reached her foot out, gently kicking Tim for his attention, bringing him back to them. Jon gave him an odd look, but didn’t ask any questions.   
“Carry on,” Tim spoke, his voice only a bit rougher than usual.

“Um-” Jon found his place again, “o- other entities I believe to exist are The Eye,” he glanced up at Tim, checking to see if he was really alright to continue. Tim made a face at the mention of The Eye, not entirely convincing, but better than nothing. Jon cleared his throat slightly before continuing, “The Lightless Flame or The Devastation, which I believe revolve around fire and destruction. The Buried or Choke? It’s- It’s suffocating? Or- or dirt. Meat or Flesh, which had a lot of disgusting imagery, to do with flesh, of course. I’m not entirely sure about it, maybe butchery? But, there’s The Slaughter, which was fueled by people, well, slaughtering each other. The Web or Mother of Puppets, which has spider imagery and deals with- with manipulation? And Gertrude also mentioned a few with no other context to them, The Spiral, The Hunt, and The Dark, and-” he paused, flicking through a few pages, before glancing up at Martin, “and, uh- s- something to do with… worms.”

Martin’s hands shook so much that Sasha had to take his mug from him, or risk coffee being spilt everywhere, and with his hands now free he curled up on himself more, and clutched his ears. Sasha and Tim looked at each other with concern, while Jon fidgeted with his notebook.   
“Aight, hold on,” Tim stood up and moved quickly to the bedroom, returning with a few moments later with a thick pair of headphones and an MP3 player, “here.”

He passed them to Martin, who gave him a small smile, putting them on to block out the conversation.

Once they’d gotten the thumbs up from Martin, Sasha and Tim looked at Jon, who gave one last concerned look to Martin before speaking, “he was attacked by Jane Prentiss, she has his phone and was the one messaging us about his ‘illness’. She kept him locked in his flat for thirteen days, and yesterday she was gone from his door, so he ran to the Institute, where I was researching. I- We went through what happened, and I filled him in on what we had heard the day before. Prentiss is definitely serving one of these entities, and the fact she targeted Martin knowing his connection to the Institute is very worrisome, and I don’t believe it would be too far-fetched to believe she would come after one of us next.”

Sasha’s hands were tight around Martin’s mug, “what are we supposed to do?”

“Research-” Tim made a disapproving noise, but Jon continued regardless, “we have to find out if there’s a way to stop her or- or her worms, so we can protect ourselves and everyone else. Gertrude- she would disrupt the entities rituals with- well, with explosives,” Tim made an approving noise, “but that doesn’t help us with Prentiss, I don’t- I don’t believe that trapping people in their flats are part of any ritual of hers, and there’s also the- the body count.”

“ _ Do what you have to do _ .” Sasha recited Gertrude’s message, and Jon gave her a stricken look.

“I- I can’t just kill people, I-”

“I’m not suggesting you do, it’s just- I guess it’s just what Gertrude did.”

Jon gave a hesitant nod, “she- she killed a lot of people, and- and I don’t know how many of them were innocent lives, but I  _ can’t _ do that. I- I don’t even  _ want  _ to kill Prentiss, but if there’s no other way to keep people safe, th- then I want to keep the- the damage to those who deserve it.”

Tim gave him a short nod, “so what does Martin do?”

Jon gave him a confused look, “research, like the rest of us.”

“No,” Sasha interjected, with a small smile, “what does he do about his flat situation?”

“Oh. Um, well, he can’t go back to it, that’s too dangerous, Prentiss knows where it is and there’s no guarantee that she hasn’t already hidden worms in there, I’ll have to call the ECDC in the morning regarding it, I forgot with the earlier panic, but for now he could… I’d suggest staying in the Archives, there’s a cot in the back room, but I wouldn’t exactly call that the safest place now either-”

“He can stay with me! It can be a boys sleepover!” Tim grinned as Sasha put a hand over her mouth to hide her own smile, Jon on the other hand, was nodding thoughtfully.

Sasha tapped Martin’s knee and motioned for him to take the headphones off, as he did they could hear the faint tones of Tim’s loud music taste, “Martin!” Tim spoke cheerfully, “you wanna sleep with me?”

“Tim!” Sasha slapped his leg as Martin’s face flushed.

“I mean, sleep over here with me!” Tim’s voice was the same, overly cheerful as he teased Martin.

“Sasha and I can go to your flat tomorrow, get some of your stuff,” Jon said, leaning forwards to see Martin’s face, “safety is our current priority.”

Martin bit his lip as he considered his options, it’s not like he had many, so he nodded slowly.

Jon gave a small smile, and Martin reconsidered his entire life as he buried his face into his arms to hide the growing blush, thankfully, Jon was the least observant person who could possibly be called an Archivist, so he didn’t notice it.

Unfortunately, Sasha and Tim were far better at noticing things, and they shared a knowing look.

“Alright then,” Sasha said, rolling her shoulders, “is that all the important stuff?”

Jon looked at his closed notebook, and nodded, “the rest can wait until tomorrow, I suppose.”

“Today.”

“Don’t be pedantic, Tim,” Jon’s voice was much softer than usual, there was no bite to his words.

Tim stood and clapped his hands together, “okie-dokie then! Martin, Jon, you two need to shower, I’ll get you some clothes to wear,” Jon started to splutter, and Tim looked at him with faux thoughtfulness, “okay, okay, you don’t have to shower  _ together _ , but you both need it and dear lord I am _ not _ letting you leave this flat, Jon.” Jon looked as though he was about to argue, but then Tim stood up, reminding him that Tim was far taller and broader than him. Jon closed his mouth. Tim grinned, “Martin, you shower first, leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll chuck them in the wash. One of my older binders might fit you, but that’s for the morning,” Martin shuffled in his hoody, making sure it was billowed out enough to make his chest seem more of an misshapen blob as he made his way to the bathroom, “you though,” Tim pointed at Jon, “you’re shit outta luck, ‘cause I am not letting you wear that thing in this household after you spent the weekend wearing it.” Jon grunted, sounding like a sullen teenager, “don’t act like you care, mister.”

“I don’t, but you’re not my  _ mother. _ ”

Tim put his hands on his hips, “I am now, bitch.”

Jon couldn’t help the laughter.

-

Sasha woke at 8am, and made sure that Tim’s alarm wasn’t set to go off anytime soon.

Looking back at the bed she noticed that Jon was cuddled in between Tim and Martin and took a few photos for future teasing. Jon had started curled up at the end of the bed, as far away from anyone as he could be after Tim had basically threatened him to get him to sleep on his stupidly large bed. Martin was completely wrapped up in the duvet, leaving barely any for the rest of them, but they didn’t mind, they knew he was far more dysphoric about his chest than Tim or Jon, and Tim was like a furnace anyway.

Sasha smiled softly at her sleeping boys, and wished the circumstances were different, before curling back up against Tim’s back, stealing his heat for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent Too Long writing notes as Jon so that I could try n figure out how much he'd get from the tapes-
> 
> enyway, im gonna go n deep clean my flat and hug my cats have fun-


	3. Martin gets hugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this was gonna be different but then I listened to 170 and then I Needed Martin to have hugs and then I got distracted and then this happened so-
> 
> It's mostly Tim and Martin here, and they have a conversation wherein Tim explains some things.

When Martin eventually woke up, the first thing he saw was Jon.

Specifically, Jon being restrained by a grinning Tim who had locked his legs with his own, one arm restraining his arms, and his other hand covering Jon's mouth.

"What?" Martin’s voice was soft and clouded with tiredness, and for a moment he wondered if he was still asleep.

"Martin!" Tim’s voice was loud and cheerful, far too much for someone who’s just woken up, so it was only with slight guilt that Martin snickered when Jon wriggled himself enough to elbow Tim in the gut, "-ow!" 

Jon used Tim’s pain to wriggle out of his grasp, almost scrambling over Martin to get away from his captor.

Martin's sleepy brain refused to process any of it, " _ what? _ " he repeated.

"Timothy thinks it is appropriate to not get out of bed until all members are awake," Jon spoke, haughtily, as he started out of the bedroom.

"Sash-" Martin is cut off by her voice and a hand being raised from behind Tim.

"Here," she says, simply. When Martin leant up to see her, she was lying on her back on her phone, and looked like she’d been awake for a while.

"It is absolutely illegal to leave a cuddle pile when people in it are still sleeping, it's the law Martin."

Martin just blinked at him, "okay." He’s not gonna understand Tim anytime soon.

Instead, he rolled over, and with a yawn started to get up. He was still as wrapped up in the duvet as he could possibly be, he managed to stumble to his feet and drag it along with him.

"There’s a binder on the sofa, and your clothes should be in the dryer with Jon's," Tim called after him, "providing he hasn't tried to steal them!"

-

"Breakfast is served!" Tim called out as he placed bowls of coco pops in front of his friends, he received nothing but contempt for his altruism.

"It's almost 2pm, Timothy," Jon said, staring at the bowl.

"Breakfast is a state of mind, Jonathy."

Jon sighed, and just picked up his spoon, pushing the cereal around in the bowl.

"So," Sasha spoke between bites, "Martin, you should make a list of things you need from your flat so Jon and I don't just end up bringing back anything that looks  _ interesting _ ," she teased with a gentle smile.

Martin flushed slightly at the thought of what she would find interesting, despite knowing he has nothing that anyone ever could consider interesting, "it- it's mostly just clothes I’d need-"

Tim cuts him off, “what about you-” 

Sasha slapped a hand to his mouth, probably accidentally slapping his spoon onto the table at the same time, ignoring Tim’s heartbroken expression as he looked at his spilled cereal, "Still though, if you want any specific clothes, ah! You can nick Tim's phone to text us!"

"Hey! Jonathy!" Tim exclaimed dramatically, immediately abandoning his spoon "you can't let them do this! 

Jon sighed, "I'm afraid it's out of my hands," he held out his hand to Tim, and in a deadpan voice said, "give me your phone."

Tim gasped, eyes wide, "I trusted you!"

"You only have yourself to blame for that," Jon said, still straight faced, though there was a glint of humour in his eyes.

Martin watched the exchange with a strange feeling in his chest, and a small smile on his face.

Sasha caught his eyes and grinned in a manner he wasn't quite sure he liked, it was one of those grins that promised teasing in the future, and then she rolled her eyes and stood up, collecting Tim's empty bowl to put in the sink along with her own.

Jon took this as his cue to put down his own spoon, leaving his conversation with Tim abruptly to place his nearly full bowl next to the sink, "Martin, message us if you want specific items, otherwise we'll just retrieve clothing," he moved from the kitchen, retrieving his shoes.

"I'll make him get something to eat at a café," Sasha said quietly, then raising her voice, "Jon, you gonna put your binder on?"

"It's still wet," he frowned, looking down at his chest, "I may need to borrow a jacket to stop people from screaming ‘think of the children’ again."

"Y- you can borrow my hoody!" Martin offered, proud that his voice only got  _ slightly _ higher by the end of it.

Jon made a vague noise of affirmation while Martin completely ignored the two vultures grinning at him.

-

Watching Jon leave the flat wearing the hoody that was  _ far _ too big for him made that feeling in his chest even more… feelingly.   
He’ll work out what it means later.

When Tim isn’t hovering over him, grinning like a hungry wolf.

Slowly advancing on him.

Martin made the bad decision to look at him.

“Oh Jon! Wear my clothes to protect your frail body Jon!” Tim, with what he would call affection, mocked.

“He was  _ literally  _ wearing one of your t-shirts as a  _ nightgown! _ ” 

“It’s okay Martin,” Tim spoke as though trying to create a peaceful middle ground, “I know your taste in men is debatable at best-”   
  


“Just because I didn’t think Ryan was hot doesn’t mean-”

“- but really,  _ Jon? _ ”

Martin’s face seemed to be in an almost permanent state of being flushed now, “I don’t- I don’t like him like that! He- he- he’s an arsehole and I- I-” Tim only grinned as Martin’s protests stammered out to nothing, “look- I- I just- h- he-”

Tim’s grin grew, so Martin just gently slapped him away as he stood with his nearly empty bowl. Standing next to the sink, Martin drained the milk into the sink, and scraped the last of the cereal from his and Jon's bowls into the little food waste bin. 

He knew Tim was staring at him.

He started washing the bowls.

Tim was behind him.

Martin wasn’t good with pressure.

"Maybe!"

Tim draped himself over Martin's shoulders with a victorious noise, "I'll take a maybe!"

Martin sighed and closed his eyes, trying to force down the heat in his cheeks, "I- I just-" Tim was effectively just hugging Martin from behind with his chin resting on the top of Martin's head, which didn't help his blushing. Though he did appreciate the small vestige of comfort it gave him in these traumatizing times of realising that he has a crush on his boss. Shit. Even admitting it in his head made him feel fuzzy and warm and- and kinda scared. He's just gonna shove that down for now.   
Maybe forever.

"You just think he's an arsehole?" 

"Well, y- yeah! He- he's always cruel about me and- and what I can or can't do and-"

Tim let out a soft sigh, the exhale ruffling Martin's soft curls, "he- something you should understand with Jon is that he's used to arseholes, Sasha and I are arseholes, that's why we're friends," Martin was just making confused noises, eyebrows furrowed, "Jon only knows snark and sarcasm, me and Sash are fluent in them, but you're always nice and making him tea, and he doesn't know how to deal with it."

"So he's- trying to be… friendly?"

"Ehhhh- no. He's being a dick."

Martin held on to the edge of the sink, watching the milky water drain, "you're really giving me mixed messages here Tim."

He lets out a small huff into Martin’s hair, "Jon doesn't know how to deal with you, so he's acting out. His thoughts are that if he makes you not want to deal with him, then he doesn't have to try and figure out how to interact with you, yeah?"

"Oh," Martin couldn't lie to himself, but that did kinda feel like a knife to the heart, the fact that Jon apparently didn’t care enough to try and understand Martin, that he’d rather Martin hate him, "he was just… so kind yesterday, wh- when I went to the Institute, and- and I just- he was adamant that I stay safe and he looked after me and-"

Tim squeezed him a little tighter, and Martin tried not to sink into the comfort, "to be fair, I do think it's changed a bit now," Martin made another small noise of confusion, "Sash and me have worn him down a bit, so he's at least a bit friendlier now, and after last night he can't really go back to making things up about your work ethic when Sash and I literally have pictures of him snuggling you."

" _ What?! _ " Martin's voice was so high, it managed to reach a level that Tim didn’t think was humanly possible to reach.

But still, he snickered, and removed an arm from the hug to pull out his phone, swiping to his photos to show Martin.

Now Tim was  _ sure _ the noises Martin was making weren’t human. Nor was the heat he was radiating. The temptation to just fluster him more by calling him hot in reference to the heat was high, but Tim likes to pretend he’s better than that. For now.

Martin was mortified,  _ Jon was so cute. _

Tim scrolled through the photos slowly, picture after picture with different angles of Jon curled up into a small ball up against Martin,with Martin’s face buried in Jon’s hair and one arm freed from his duvet cocoon to wrap around the smaller man. Some of the photos had Tim or Sasha, or both, cameoing around them, making faces or gestures and just generally looking far too pleased with themselves.   
And then Tim swiped to the last photo, and Martin felt his gay ol’ soul ascending. It was a close-up of Jon’s face, or what could be seen of it; he was pressed against Martin so only half of it could be seen, and his expression is so soft, a small smile making him look younger and peaceful. Martin’s nose was buried in his hair and he could just about see his own small smile, and his arm was tucked around Jon, keeping him close.

Tim moved his phone away, and stumbled slightly as Martin groaned loudly and leant into the sink. Tim still had something to say, though, and by god was he gonna say it, “I think you should use the last one as your photo for your wedding invitations.”

The strangled noise Martin made was worth the impromptu water fight that he started by turning the sink on and flinging water at him.   
Tim may have ended up the most soaked, but he still considered himself slightly the winner because Martin felt too bad about leaving the mess to not clean it up while Tim changed, despite telling him he didn’t have to. Tim wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it up but that didn’t mean he was going to  _ make _ Martin clean it, it just meant it didn’t matter as much when Martin  _ did _ clean it behind his back.   
Next time though, Martin would be the soaked one while Tim cleaned up. 

Only fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time there's actually gonna b some Plot-


	4. Collections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homes are visited, clothes are gathered, muffins are consumed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of worms burying into flesh, but thats as graphic as it gets-

Sasha gave a small shiver as they walked to the tube station, it wasn't that long of a journey to get to Martin's, but it wasn't yet warm enough for her liking to be walking there. And if she knew Jon, he would find it absolutely freezing.

Jon was walking along next to her, seemingly lost in his thoughts while he fiddled with Martin's flat keys in one hand. He had pulled the sleeves of Martin's hoody up to his knobbly elbows so he could actually use his hands, but otherwise it was almost comically large on him, and he had managed to tuck an end into his trousers, giving it a lopsided look and even while he kept his arms close to his body for warmth, right now he could only be described as adorable.

So that's what Sasha did, "god Jon, how do you manage to be so adorable with so little effort?"

The reaction was immediate, Jon literally stopping in his tracks, causing Sasha to take a couple of steps ahead of him before properly processing his halt, and with the heat rising in his face he spoke with equal heatedness, "I am  _ not _ adorable!"

Sasha had to close her eyes and press a hand against her mouth not to laugh at him, the way he was pouting up at her with his arms crossed was destroying her composure, " _ Jon- _ " she couldn't take it, and started laughing. 

Jon decided to just storm forwards, leaving her to her  _ childish antics _ . Though he wouldn't leave her behind, it's too dangerous to split everyone up considering everything that's happened this weekend.

-

It wasn't until they reached Martin's rundown building that they actually stopped a moment more.

"You haven't seen any?"

"No, Jon. There's none around the doors, none around the windows, and none I could see when I looked into the main hallway. Did you see any?"

Jon sighed, running a hand across his forehead, "no, but a-"

"Jonathan Sims if you ask me if I'm sure one more time, I will never tell you  _ ever _ if I find one of Prentiss' worms. I may tell you about a worm I dug out of the ground, though, and I may tell you about it via leaving it in your desk drawers," Sasha threatened, giving Jon a look that told him it was  _ not _ an empty threat.

"Alright, alright," he sighed again, looking at the doors to the hallway with apprehension, "there could still be some on the higher floors though, so we still need to be careful. Fourth, right?"

" _ Fourth floor, or well- well the top floor, on the left from the stairs, I mean technically it's on the right because that's where the front of the building is but it's easier to remember from the stairs then where the front is- oh, yeah, number 15 _ ," Sasha recited what Martin had told them, word for word, much to Jon's chagrin.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Jon took a deep breath, fiddling with the key fob in his hand, "right, well, we've put it off for long enough, time to get a move on," and with that, Jon strode towards the doors with a bravado that was entirely fake.

Sasha stared after him in disbelief, " _ we? _ " 

-

"Was that a-"

"No! Jon, you're going to get the police called on us if you keep jumping at the shadows like this!" 

"I'm sorry for being afraid of flesh eating worms!"

Their hissed argument had already gained the attention of a sweet looking old lady with a bag full of shopping, Jon smiled awkwardly at her until she was gone from view.

"Look, if you don't want to be faced with worms, you can stay down here and I'll-"

"No," Jon seemed shocked by his own determination, but carried on anyway, "I'm not letting anyone face even the possibility of that danger alone."

Sasha gave him a proud look, "alright, then we'll stupid our way through the worms together," and with that, she grabbed his arm and pulled him up stairs, ignoring his spluttering protests.

They moved slowly up the final flight of stairs, Sasha using her height advantage to peek under the bannister, and Jon bravely keeping a watch on the stairs behind them.

"Seems clear," she whispered, eyes sweeping back and forth along the floor as she advanced slowly. At this point it wasn't necessary to try and pull Jon along, he was almost completely pressed against Sasha's back, gripping her hand in his own.

"Are you sure?"

It took all of Sasha's willpower to not say something rude, "yes, Jon. I'm sure," and without waiting for him to respond, she moved further up, still scanning for signs of the silver worms that trapped Martin for so long.

She couldn't see anything, and though she wouldn't voice it, she was wondering if Martin's account was as accurate as he gave. It's not that she didn't trust him, she does believe that he was attacked and followed, but maybe his panic had had him overreact, and extend the danger past the point of safety.

It was Sunday afternoon, so it had been at least 12 hours since Martin had reported in about Jane Prentiss and there was nothing to be seen.

"Did you call the ECDC already?" she asked, moving out of the way for Jon to get to Martin's door.

Jon hesitated before answering, "no," he was fiddling with the key in the lock, Martin was right when he'd told them it stuck a bit, "I, um, I wanted to get his stuff first. Otherwise it would take ages and he would have to get new clothes, and you've seen how much he hates the feel of new clothes-"

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Sasha watched him open the door fondly, trust Jon to notice something like that. It just added to her and Tim's pile of evidence that Jon did care about Martin, despite his attempts at seeming like he didn't.

The door opened and Jon near jumped back into Sasha in his haste to get away from it.

Peering in, there weren't any signs of movement, just towels and clothes pressed against windows and doorways. From what they could see, Martin's flat seemed to be rather empty anyway, scuffed cream walls and bare floors with the minimum amount of, from looking at the state of them, hopefully second-hand furniture.

Sasha and Jon looked at each other.

Sasha held her hands out for rock-paper-scissors.

Jon gave her a stern look.

Sasha gave a pointed look towards the open door.

-

"Doesn't make sense that paper beats rock…"

"Oh my god Jon are you  _ still _ hung up on that?"

Jon folded the t-shirt he was holding aggressively, jamming it down into the backpack they'd found, "in what world does paper win against rock!"

Sasha plonked a handful of socks down on the top of the bag, "because it wraps around it, duh."

"It's a  _ rock, _ it would just tear right through it!"

"It wraps around it!"

"That's- that's not what-" Jon continued his arguing as he left the room, "if you throw a rock at paper, the paper would not win!"

"But Jon, you're not considering the fact it wraps around the rock!" Sasha grinned as she pushed the socks down the side of the bag.

" _ You- _ " Jon returned with a large plastic Iceland's bag that had some knitting needles sticking out the top around the point it was tied, "are a right arse. Continue packing, I'm going to talk to the neighbours," Jon walked to the door.

"Boo you whore!"

"Fuck off!" He made a motion as though he was going to slam the door, but instead just closed it halfway after himself.

Then he stuck his head back in, "scream if you see any worms."

"You too!"

Sasha grinned at his grumbling as she continued shoving clothes in.

Martin hadn't asked for that bag of knitting stuff, but he also hadn't asked to be attacked by Prentiss, so he gets what he's given, she supposes.

She tried to grab an adequate amount of clothes from around his bedroom, but from the looks of it most of them had been used to help stopper the tides of worms.

After a moment’s thought she moved to the kitchen, and searched through the drawers. Pulling a bin bag and some sandwich bags out of a drawer, she used the little sandwich bags as makeshift gloves and started to carefully pick through some of the blockade clothing, chucking any adequate clothes into the bin bag to hopefully wash later.

There were quite a few squish marks.

Throwing away the faux gloves, she picked up his box of tea from the side. Might as well make sure he's got something he likes.

She grabbed the full backpack, and slung it on her back, then untied the Iceland's bag pulling out the knitting on top- it looked like a simple scarf to her, made with some multicolored green wool- underneath it were more balls of wool, then a pair of headphones connected to an mp3 player, along with the small polaroid camera Tim had gotten him for his birthday, a small bag tied to the wrist strap with all the pictures he’d taken- they mostly seemed to be from his birthday, and only one actually included Martin himself, the one where Tim had charmed a passerby into taking it for them- and underneath that were some notebooks. She shook her head with a soft smile and placed the tea in the bag, tying it back up and holding it.

Jon had left Martin's keys on the kitchen counter, so she picked them up as she left, locking his door, then turned and looked at the other three doors on that floor. None of them were open, so instead she just called out for Jon, holding her breath to hear his response.

A response, that rather surprisingly, came from the floor below.

"Sasha? Are you alright?" 

Looking over the bannister, she could see Jon leaning out of a doorway with a concerned expression, "I'm fine! All done!"

By the time she got down to Jon, he was trying very hard to stop an old woman from giving him what appeared to be a month's worth of muffins. 

They walked away with an extra each.

Sasha carried the backpack and the bin bag, leaving Jon with the bag of extras, and wearing a second hoody of Martin's, a much thicker one that stopped his huddling for warmth.

"No one at all?"

Jon shook his head, "no one. Apparently the top floor has been empty apart from Martin for three months now, Mike, this student, lives under the flat next to Martin's and he says they were the last to move out, Jenny, the woman who apparently thinks we don’t eat enough, and her wife say that they've seen people go up to check out the top floor flats but they always leave fairly quickly."

Sasha couldn't help but laugh, "to be fair, it is a pretty shitty place."

"Well, yes, you'd think Martin would live somewhere a bit nicer, his paycheck should allow it unless he's spending an inordinate amount on something else."

Sasha doesn't respond, Martin had already let it out that he was paying for a private care home for his mother, despite the fact she didn't deserve it. Although Martin still refused to believe that.

Thankfully though, if a thought left Jon's head, it tended to never come back. And at that point Jon was staring at the tube station they were standing in front of.

"This isn't the right place."

Sasha looked up at the sign to the station she'd led them to, "oh yeah, I thought it would be better for us two to also crash at Tim's, so we're gonna pop round our places and grab some stuff."

Jon stared at her, "d- don't you think that's a decision I should make for myself?"

"Okay, Jon. Do you want to have safety in numbers and crash with us at Tim's, or would you prefer to go home, alone, at the complete mercy of any flesh eating worm hives that may or may not attempt to bury into your flesh?"

"Fuck you."

Sasha patted his arm warmly, "love you too, bitch."

-

Sasha’s flat was a stark contrast to her desk in the Archives, it almost seemed as though she’d also had a run in with Prentiss from all the clothes slung around the place, but Sasha assured him that it was ‘controlled chaos’.

He did not believe her.

He did appreciate that she had a rolling suitcase already all packed and ready, and though he wondered why, he didn’t ask.

When they had reached Jon’s flat, Sasha had to stop him from bringing only paperwork, and then also had to hunt through his cupboards for an actual backpack to put his clothes in other than plastic bags. 

While he was pulling clothes from his wardrobe, Sasha grabbed one of his long skirts and pointed out the different ways he could wear it and how they’d suit certain types of outfits.

None of which Jon would wear of his own volition, but Sasha would get him dressed up for a nice night out one day. Er, night.

Once the duo had their masses of bags, ready for a long sleepover at their co-workers flat, Sasha dragged Jon to a café for a bite to eat to make up for his small amount of breakfast. It was a place she went to a lot, usually stopping in before work for a coffee and some pastry, and she was surprised it was open at this time on a Sunday, but hey, all the better for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the lengths of my chapters depends on what i know ive got planned, in an attempt to not accidentally leave one chapter as like, 600 words-
> 
> and, since youre here, please check out this post of mine on tumblr:  
> https://jonarchives.tumblr.com/post/620261452835635201/keanearts-all-money-i-make-from-commissions-and


	5. #0160204-1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasha and Jon go to a perfectly normal café for a perfectly normal time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more mentions of flesh hives

The café seemed empty, though the lights were on and everything else about it screamed 'open for business', there didn't seem to be anyone there. No one at the tables, no one browsing the expensive looking teas on the shelving, and no one at the counter.

"Are you sure it's open?" Jon whispered, feeling his anxiety spike at the thought of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Door's open, sign said welcome," Sasha didn't seem as bothered by it, walking up to the counter.

Peering over it, she called out, "hello? Anyone home?"

There was a silence that made Jon want to bolt out the door.

And then a soft voice from the kitchen out back called out, "sit down, I'll be out," in a sort of voice that sounded melodic but wrong, distorted as though a recording of someone speaking from far across a large room but played right up by the door.

Sasha gave Jon a smug look.

Jon gave her a panicked one.

She pulled him over to a table, pushing him into the seat, “looks like a duck, walks like a duck.”

“Is actually an eldritch being?”

She sighs, sitting in her own seat, “there was a response, someone will be out in a moment, we can order then. If no one had responded we would have left, it’s okay.”

“Okay, but what if they were in the middle of  _ closing? _ ”

“Then they would have at least shut the door, not left it open.”

Jon crossed his arms and looked away, his foot tapping erratically on the tiled floor and a pout on his face as he glares around the room, “gaudy.”

Sasha closed her eyes, and put her forehead in her hand, “just full of complaints tonight, aren’t you?” 

Opening her eyes to see his expression change to a slightly more worried one, she smiled at him, dropping her arms to fold them against the table and lean forwards towards him, “did you know Tim’s got a secret stash of boring documentaries?” 

She knows it’s not his fault he has anxiety, she just wishes that he’d be able to deal with it without going for the hostile approach. His defenses were to drive people away, make it so he doesn’t have to actually deal with the problem and can do what he wants. In this case, he was hoping for Sasha to tell him to just leave if he didn’t want to be here, but even then that’s what he’s  _ afraid _ she’ll do, because he doesn’t really want to be alone. She knows he’s his own worst enemy, and she does want to help him, but she’s no therapist. 

Jon gives her a suspicious look, “define ‘boring’.”

“ _ Boring, adjective: uninteresting and tiresome- _ ” Jon threw a packet of sugar at her, and she grinned before pretending to think about it, “well, they’re so boring I don’t remember them. I think there was one about that Smirke guy he’s always on about? So yeah,  _ boring _ .”

Jon scoffed, “if there’s a Robert Smirke then I doubt any others he has would make for an enjoyable night in.”

Sasha’s response was cut off by two mugs of tea that were placed in front of them, Earl Grey from the tag on the tea bag. She looked up, the person serving them was tall, with long blond hair that seemed to have a life of its own, and a smile that seemed far to large for his face, “oh, we didn’t-”

She stops as they pull a chair and sit down, folding arms that for a moment seemed to reach further than was possible before settling to normal on the table, and then she hears the screech of a chair, and Jon is on his feet and pulling at her arm, trying to move her away, “Jon! What-”

He was staring at the table, at the mug of tea, and as she followed his gaze the first thing she realised was that the water was cold, as though it had just come from the tap with a tea bag thrown in. 

The second thing she noticed was the reflection.

The reflection was far too tall, the arms and visible body were far thinner than and human could possibly be and moved as though there were no bones in them, apart from the hands.   
His hands were almost the same size as their torso, the tips of the fingers ending in sharp points, and seemed to have far more bones than normal hands.

The hair framing the face definitely had a life of its own, twisting and curling around with no regard to gravity, and the face itself was difficult to focus on, it seemed to twist and shift, changing before she could get a grasp on what he looked like, leaving only an impression of a shark’s grin that didn’t fit the size of their head at all.

“What are you?” She asked, standing suddenly, putting a hand on Jon’s as he clutched at her arm.

The person- creature? Still sat across from them, they laughed, the sound high and unnatural, causing Sasha’s ears to ring, “how would a melody describe itself when asked?” 

The voice was the same one from earlier, from the kitchen beyond the counter.

And Sasha decided she hated it.

She only had room in her life for one pretentious bastard, and he was standing behind her, “if you’re going to just talk in cheap riddles, we’ll just leave.”

Jon was pulling lightly on her arm, obviously wanting to leave regardless, but they put a hand up, as though trying to placate her, “I apologise, you could call me… Michael.”

Sasha heard Jon inhale sharply while this Michael watched them. It almost seemed as though he was waiting for them to identify themselves. But if he were, he was shit out of luck, as Jon had gone non-verbal, and Sasha had no intentions of giving this guy any information about them.

But it appeared that Michael was fully content to sit there, smiling unnervingly at them in silence.

Okay, “What do you want?” she asked, feeling Jon squeeze her arm in disapproval at the fact she was continuing the conversation.

His grin seemed to grow, yet remain the same at the same time, “to help!”

Sasha glanced at Jon whilst keeping Michael in her peripherals- which didn’t help his twisting visage- and shared a confused look before asking her next question, “help with what? Stopping Prentiss from harassing us?”

Michael laughed and she felt Jon wince, the sound too much for him, “oh, you don’t have any idea of what’s really going on,” he kept chuckling, and Sasha thought better than to tell him what they  _ did _ know in case he meant them harm, “really though, I don’t care if you and your companions live or die, but the flesh-hive is always so rash, and you would do so much better living for a while more.”

Jon was pulling Sasha’s arm a bit harder, and by now she was a bit more lenient to leaving, and stepped forwards to grab the bag next to her chair.

Michael leant forwards at the same time, grabbing her hand in his, “I just want to be your friend.”

Sasha pulled her hand free sharply, his hand felt like a wet leather bag, far large then it looked and full of sharp stones. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling and she had to stop herself from scrubbing the hand against the rough fabric of her jeans as she grabbed the bag and all but pushed Jon ahead of her so they could leave. Michael stayed seated, his smile never leaving.

They were almost at the door when Michael spoke again, and though he was further from them, his voice still sounded as if he were right in front of them, “if you’re interested in saving your lives, and the lives of your Martin and Tim, I’ll be waiting for you at Hanwell Cemetery.”

Jon tensed, but Sasha kept him moving, and it wasn’t until they had made it through the underground and onto the crowded carriage that Jon finally spoke up in a quiet voice, “we’re not going.”

“He could be helping us.”

“Or he could be trying to get us killed!” Jon sat heavily in his seat as the tube rattled along, “you heard them,  _ ‘I don’t care if you live or die’ _ !”

Sasha positioned herself in front of him with their bags between them, creating a buffer between him and the crowd, giving him that little bit of space he needed to not get sensory overload from all the people pressing around them, “he also said that we’re better off alive.”

“For a  _ while! _ ”

“Which is still better than better off dead!” Jon glared at her and she sighed, “Jon, I’m going to meet with him, you can either come with me, or stay with Tim and Martin, but you can’t stop me.”

Jon’s harsh look melted into a worried one, “please, Sasha, this is an incredibly dangerous situation, and you could get seriously injured.”

“No matter what, Jon, I’ll be careful, I promise,” she smiled reassuringly at him.

Unfortunately, he was not reassured. 

He brought a hand to his mouth, chewing on his nail, and was silent for a moment, “we can’t take the bags.”

Sasha sighed with a smile, “we can drop them off with Tim on the way.”

-

“Got a text from Sash!”

Martin looked up from the film Tim had put on, “what’s it say?”

Tim made a face at the screen as his fingers flew across the keyboard, “says the bags are waiting inside the foyer door, got some shit from her’s and Jon’s places too.”

Martin turned in Tim’s arm to give him a confused look, Tim was a major cuddler, “why from theirs?” 

Tim made a non-committal grunt, still watching his phone, “they’re probably gonna stay over too, safer that way, innit?”

“ _ Innit? _ ”

Tim grinned and adopted an over-the-top posh voice as he stood from the sofa, “oh, my sincerest apologies, my dearest Martino! I obsfucately meant ‘is it not’!”

Martin snorted with laughter and stood as well, “that’s not- that’s not the right word!”

Tim’s face was the picture of innocent confusion, “oh, is it ‘objectionally’ instead?”

“C- closer!” Martin’s giggling continued as they went into the lift.

And once on the ground floor, the doors open as Tim, still with his ‘posh’ voice says, “orgasm!”

“ _ TIM! _ ” Martin’s voice is high, and his face bright red as he looks around to see if anyone is out in the hallway, giggling nervously as he pushes Tim towards the doors.   
Fortunately no one was as it was getting late.

Tim opened his mouth, devilish grin on his face, and Martin instantly covered it with his hand, “sh! Shush! No more!”

Tim licked his hand and Martin yanked his hand back with a squeak, “aw, but  _ daaad! _ ” 

Martin wagged a finger at him, and pointed at the bags by the door, “pick up!”

-

Back in Tim’s flat, the dynamic duo were sorting through the bags.

“Suitcase is Sash’s, saw some pictures of her with it when she went to France last year,” Tim said, pushing it to the side, “you knit?”

“Uh, s- sometimes, I’m not very good at it but it’s- it’s relaxing…” Martin spoke quietly, embarrassedly fiddling with the strap of his backpack.

Tim passed the bag with the knitting needles in it over to him, “I tried getting into knitting, good for something to do with your hands when you’re listening to things, but I just couldn’t keep it up. I knitted some mean fucking squares with fraying ends though.”

Martin chuckled, clutching the bag to his chest with a small smile, “so that bag’s Jon’s?” he asked, nodding at the bulging backpack that neither of them recognised.

“Must be,” Tim looked at the bin bag that was currently across the room from them, “do you think we should try washing the worm clothes?”

“Don’t call them that.”

“Worm washing.”

“Not the word I have a problem with.”

“Creature clothing.”

“Tim.”

“Gooey garments.”

“ _ Ew. _ ”

“Slimy socks.”

“Okay that one sucked.”

Tim gave him an affronted look, “this is what my love and devotion brings me? Hatred and insults?”

Martin looked at him with a blank look, “yep.”

Tim stood with an overdramatic sobbing sound, and picked up the bin bag, moving to the kitchen.

“So we’re washing them?” Martin asked, following him.

“Yup! Probably a few times, make sure the cleaning-ness permeates them,” Tim frowned at the bag as he opened the washing machine, “though I’m not too fond of the time it’ll take with separating them.”

“Oh! If you put it on a low temperature then the colours won’t run!”

Tim gave him a surprised look, “low temp?”

Martin nodded, “yeah, colours don’t run, at least, not as much, so you don’t need to separate them! You can put more washes in at once and save some money at the same time, I usually just put everything in on the twenty C eco wash.”

Tim stared at him for a moment, then chucked the bag into the machine while saying “great!”

“T- Tim! It’s a closed bag!”

“Alright, alright!” Tim looked around the kitchen, then grabbed a couple of forks from the cutlery drawer, using one of them as a grip on the bag and the other to tear it open in one quick movement, and as soon as he’d made a big enough hole, he slammed the washer door shut, and grinned at Martin.

“If that breaks your machine then you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Tim shrugged, “a risk I’ll have to take,” he spoke whilst pouring washing powder into the drawer, Martin choosing not to mention the fact he isn’t measuring it, despite the worry it caused him. Tim knew what he was doing. Probably.

Hopefully.

“Well!” Tim clapped his hands together, “I don’t know what the hell Jon and Sash are doing, but I feel like setting up sleeping spaces!”

“Uh, o- okay, wh- what should I do?”

“I’ve got an inflatable mattress in my camping cupboard, I know my bed is big enough for as many activities as you’d like, but Jon will probably want a separate sleeping arrangement. I know Sash is fine with sharing with me though, so that leaves you,” Tim tilted his head at him.

“I’m- uh… I’m fine with sharing-”

“Sharing with Jon, got it!”

“Tim!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throwback to when i thought id get all this in one chapter and now im looking at at least four, this being the third of that set-
> 
> at least i kno it wont get over five, theres only 2 ways i can seperate it, n after its done its back to tryin to figure out what happens next-


	6. #0160204-2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worms.
> 
> Lots of worms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you didn't like Sasha's description of how she found Timothy Hodge, then you most likely will not like this
> 
> warnings for: worms, injuries, vomiting, and descriptions of a flesh hive.

The sun was setting by the time Jon and Sasha arrived at the cemetery, the waning light casting long shadows from the old gravestones, and a twisted shadow created from the combination of the tall iron gates, and the smiling Michael stood silent and motionless by them, seeming more like a statue themself.

Michael moved as the two of them got closer, straightening up and seeming to tower over them for a moment as he nodded for them to follow, starting along the road towards housing.

Jon and Sasha gave each other a confused look, as they followed along behind them, Jon giving a last glance at the graveyard gates as though still expecting to make their way in even as they passed the edge of it, walking along Azalea Close past the clean, well kept houses.

They neared a rundown building, the space above the broken door that was swinging gently on its hinges showed dark spots where letters had once been, it looked like the name of a pub to Sasha although she couldn't make it out properly in the low light. The cracked ground torn apart to make way for the weeds growing up through it, and the windows boarded up with metal sheets covered in dirt and graffiti, a mix of the usual crude penises, tags, and one single, large illustration of an eyeball being eaten by a horde of ants.

Michael didn't stop nor falter in his path, walking straight through the open doorway into the darkness within without even looking back.

Jon fumbled in his pocket with one hand, the other being clutched by Sasha, and they followed after Michael into the pub.

The inside was dark, dust swirling in the footsteps.

A wormwood ridden bar top could be seen in the low setting sunlight, the shelves behind it bare and the shattered remains of bar stools scattered around it.

A toolbox sat atop the bar, a small fire extinguisher lying next to it.

Beyond the bar it was too dark to see anything, and as Sasha stared into it she heard a low groan of pain, it was an almost gurgling sound, as though the noise was fighting through a blockage in the throat, and Sasha moved towards it, concern for the person in pain overriding her confusion. Jon gave a small gasp and Sasha felt his hand tremble in hers as he muttered what appeared to be every expletive he knew.

She was about to curse herself about the lack of light when a weak beam shone through the darkness from behind her. Glancing back, she saw Jon holding out his phone, the torch on the back lighting up the area in front of them even as Jon kept his gaze on the surrounding area, returning frequently to Michael's smiling face as he stood motionless once more.

The first thing Sasha noticed was the floor. It was pale, and  _ writhing. _

It took the stench for her to realise exactly what she was looking at.

There were worms squirming across a slumped figure, across, and in. The corpse- it  _ had  _ to be a corpse, looking like that- was pitted with holes, the flesh mangled and bloody as the worms wriggle through it, bloody bulging spots under the torn clothing. The worms wriggled over each other, turning into heaps of silvery flesh, knotting together to form a beating mass that- 

They were in his eyes, squirming as a single mass through the empty sockets, creating a mimicry of eyes.

Sasha gasped.

It was not loud, nor prolonged, and it was far better than a scream, but it was still too much.

The head snapped around, facing Sasha in such a swift movement that there were a cascade of worms falling from his flesh, dislodged abruptly, and his mouth opened to scream, but all that came vomited forth were more disgusting, silver worms.

Worms, that had seen the intruders, and were currently squirming towards them at an alarming speed.

Sasha took a step backwards, stepping onto Jon's foot and causing him to yelp in pain, and they both lost their balance.

Sasha fell against the bar top, one hand bashing into the toolbox with a loud rattle.

Jon's phone flew from his grasp, landing far too close to the worms for comfort, and Jon started for it before even noticing them.

" _ Worms! _ " was all Sasha could get out to warn him, flinging a spanner at the aforementioned creatures as Jon finally took in the squirming mass approaching him, and the flesh-hive that seemed to be trying to reach for him, and immediately scrambled backwards, his mouth open in shock.

Sasha continued groping blindly behind herself, grasping for tools to throw as Jon retreated. It took her an unfortunate moment to realise that the worms had separated the two, and while most of them were advancing on her, some were still going after Jon who had backed himself up against the far wall and seemed to be in a slight state of shock.

Michael was watching Sasha, not seeming interested in Jon's predicament. He still didn't move, but the worms just acted like he wasn't even there.

Sasha's hand found the fire extinguisher, and in the moment it took to heft it into both hands to throw, she realised that the pressure of the spray might be enough to blow away the worms and clear a path to Jon so they could get out of there.

She pulled the pin and squeezed the trigger, shooting gas out at the worms by her feet. She let out a noise that was a mixture of amazement and triumph, as not only were the worms forced back a bit, but the ones caught directly in the spread of gas started to curl up and shrivel, with only a few final death spasms.

She moved forwards with confidence, first killing a path through the worms towards Jon, making sure he had an escape route before turning the extinguisher towards the rest of them, advancing on the still groaning, slumped figure.

There were still worms coming from his mouth, far more than should be possible, but his flesh was just a pitted, hollow mess of oozing, bloody holes. She didn't even think about it as she doused him with the gas, not letting up until his violent spasms stopped and everything in the room was finally still.

Sasha was breathing heavily, unable to get enough oxygen in her lungs due to the CO2, making her feel light-headed to the point she almost fell over as she was looking down at the mess of flesh, it should be silent now, but her ears were filled with the sound of rushing blood and her own heartbeat. It took her a moment to notice a wallet half fallen from the man's pocket and another to realise she had picked it up, opening it to find a stained driver's license.

Then there was a sharp feeling in her right shoulder, and looking over her vision was filled only with the smile of Michael as his fingers were burying their way into her shoulder, definitely far larger and sharper than they should have been, and as she realised the feeling in her shoulder was pain, she felt the cold burn of it spread through her shoulder, even as Michael pulled a silver worm from her flesh, spearing it on their fingers as it wriggled pathetically as it died slowly.

She hadn't felt it burrow it's way into her shoulder, she hadn't felt anything until the moment it was gone, and she turned with a small gasp, looking for Jon, needing to check that he hadn't ended up worm-ridden without even noticing.

She stumbled over some debris as she moved to his side where he was still pressed against the wall, "Jon- Jon! You- are you- alright?" she asked through gasping breaths, kneeling next to him and patting at his arms, checking for holes in a haphazard fashion.

It took a second to realise that he had his hands pressed against her wound and was talking to her, high and frantic.

"Sasha! You're- you're bleeding! Is there- did- did you- the worms-"

She couldn't help laughing, knowing that it was slightly hysterical, and she pulled Jon into a hug, squeezing him tight for a moment as she attempted to clear her thoughts, and her lungs, "there- there was one, it's gone. Are you- you-"

She felt Jon shake his head as he clutched her, still trying to make sure her wound had pressure on it, "you- you killed them. Before they could- could get to me."

"Okay, okay… we should-" she glanced back to the body and stared, confused.

It was gone.

Only the husks of worms remained behind, and a quick glance around told her that Michael was also gone.

She frowned, "leave. We should leave."

Jon pulled away from her with a worried expression, but still started to move to his feet, using the wall for support as he helped Sasha stand also, and leaning on each other they left quickly, leaving the worms behind.

-

“That’s disgusting, and also fucked up.”

“Thank you for your insightful words Timothy,” Sasha sighed as she leant against his bathtub, sat on the floor while he cleaned the hole in her shoulder.

“Hm. Sarcasm. I’m not doing my job right if you’re spouting sarcasm, not enough pain.”

Sasha laughed, “if you poke my worm hole I  _ will  _ punch you in the face.”

Tim sat back on his heels to reach for the bandages, “you couldn’t ruin such a handsome face!”

“Yeah, no, I think I could,” Sasha teased before hissing in pain as he pressed gauze to the wound.

“Sorry,” Tim spoke softly, wrapping it firmly, “here, I’ll kiss it better.”

Tim made a big show of giving the bandage an over-the-top kiss, then yelped when Sasha moved her arm sharply, causing him to bash his nose. It also brought Sasha pain, but the satisfaction of Tim pouting at her made her feel far better.

“You’re a bastard, an irredeemable bastard!” Tim stood, holding a hand out to the giggling woman sitting on his bath mat.

Accepting his help with her good arm, she stands gracefully, pulling on a clean top, “and you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Tim sighed, “yeah, you’re right. Alright, let’s go see if I’ve still got a kitchen left.”

In Tim’s kitchen Jon was going back and forth between stirring the spaghetti sauce on the stove, and just clutching a mug of tea between shaking hands while Martin did most of the prep for their late dinner.

Tim and Sasha walked in, Sasha immediately going to the table and sitting down, grabbing Jon’s tea and downing the last of it and placing the empty mug back down. 

“Behind you!” Tim called out as he grabbed Jon’s shoulders, steering him to sit himself at the table as well.

“I- I was-”

“Sitting down!” Tim pushed him down, keeping pressure on his shoulders to stop him from standing again, “I’ll help Martin, you guys sit down and breathe that nice pure oxygen!”

Jon made some grumbling noises and pulled his mug towards him, lifting it to his lips to take a drink then frowning as he peered into the cup, he looked up at Sasha suspiciously. She smiled innocently.

Martin and Tim put plates of spaghetti down in front of the two, and sat.

Sasha and Tim started eating immediately, but Jon just stared at it, and Martin watched him worriedly.

“Are- Is-” Martin started, drawing everyone's attention to him, “um- uh, okay?”

Jon just gave him a confused look.

“You’re not eating, Jon,” Tim pointed out for Martin, pointing a forkful of noodles at him.

“Oh.” Jon picked up his fork and pushed some of the food around before sighing and putting it down again, “I need to- I- Just give me a moment.”

Jon stood, leaving the room while the others looked at each other in confusion, though they only had enough time to place their own cutlery down when Jon came back, his notebook and what appeared to be Martin’s polaroids in hand.

He faltered for a moment, looking at them gathered around the table, then squared shoulders and sat down again, opening his notebook, “right, unfortunately we cannot have a nice night before work due to recent developments. I-” he paused looking around, “I kept some information from you all last night, due to the sensitive nature of it.”

Tim looked at him for a moment, then shrugged to himself and started eating again.

“One of Gertrude’s recordings- statement 9941509- mentioned a creature that replaces the life of people, replacing people’s memories to make them believe that this creature is the actual person.”

Martin gave a worried look to his friends, Tim still eating, and Sasha pushing her food around the plate, seeming to be contemplating eating herself.

“Gertrude calls it the ‘Not!Them’, and she also mentioned another statement- 0011206- which tied it to an object, a table with an intricate pattern on it which features, along with the Not!Them, in statement 0070107, which strengthens the depiction that they can alter the  _ world _ at large.”

Sasha pointed her fork at him, “and you kept this from us because?”

Tim grinned, “were you afraid one of us is secretly a  _ spooky  _ monster in disguise?”

Jon gave him a deadpan look, “yes.”

Martin looked around again, as though trying to see if any of them had any seams hiding a monster inside.

“But,” Sasha said, “you’re telling us now, which means you  _ don’t _ think one of us is secretly a spooky monster in disguise.”

Jon gave a short nod, “Gertrude found that the Not!Them can not affect two things, tapes and polaroids,” he pushed Martin’s birthday photos across the table for the others to see, “Thankfully, Martin had these, so we can see that we are the same, rather than relying solely on the audio of tapes.”

Tim looked at the photos with a frown, “but these are only from a few months ago, what if one of us had been replaced before then?”

“Well, from the sounds of it, the Not!Them generally kill and move on not that long after replacing someone, but…” he fiddled with a page in his notebook, and took a deep breath, “if you think it would be prudent, we can also show, if you have one, an older polaroid as an assurance that we are who we say,” he pulled a square from his notebook, and placed it in the middle of the table, and suddenly started speaking a bit faster, “I only have this one from my college days and I would very much appreciate it if you did not comment on it at all.”

Tim clapped a hand onto Jon’s shoulder as Sasha reached for the photo, “Jon, it’s okay, we’re all fucking trans here-”

His reassurances are interrupted by a crow of laughter from Sasha, “you were in a  _ steampunk band? _ ”

Jon buries his face in his hands, and the next ten minutes are spent with laughter and joy, as Jon attempts to repress all of these new memories.

And the next half hour was spent going through Tim’s photo albums, where they were treated to a lot of stories about him and his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after this itll prolly get a bit more time skippy , i still need to actually see what happens next so i can write-


	7. Elias is here, unfortunately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jon arrive at work  
> Jon has a very long morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter one tonight, but I forgot where it was supposed to go because I got distracted halfway through writing it and forgot everything
> 
> I didnt even remember why Elias was in this chapter, so I made it so he didnt remember either-

Jon and Tim arrived at the Institute the next morning at half seven in the morning.

Jon complaining that they were late, and Tim complaining that it was far too early for him to even be awake, and that he was going to sue Jon.

"If we hadn't stopped at that bloody bakery we would've gotten here on time," Jon grumbled as they made their way down the stairs to the Archives, his mood dour from that feeling of being watched that pressed down on him the moment they had arrived.

Tim wrapped his arm around Jon's shoulders, "Jon, shut up, we literally don't need to be here for another  _ hour _ , and also, shut up, because you don't fucking eat and if you think I'm gonna let you get away with that then I must be fucking straight."

"God forbid," Jon sighed, unlocking the door to their Archives, "and I  _ do _ eat, just because I don't eat enough for twelve people unlike  _ some _ -" he paused, staring into the Archives, and Tim almost pushed him over at the unexpected stop.

Elias was standing in the middle of the Archives, facing them but looking at a file in his hands instead.

He looked up slowly, a smile on his face that someone who hates him would describe as slimy, and he closed the file firmly, "Jonathan, you're late."

Jon shot a side-long glare at Tim before looking back at Elias with a neutral expression, "my apologies Elias, we had some delays. Is there anything you need from me?"

Elias looked briefly from Jon to Tim, who had been inching his way around Jon to get to the break room, before returning his piercing gaze to Jon’s face, which Jon had to fight the urge to flinch away from, “a sleepover without me? I’m hurt.”

His voice was light, the smile on his face suggesting he was joking, but the whole situation gave Jon a flash of discomfort as he tried to figure out how to respond to that, his mind racing.

Tim gave Jon a look that screamed ‘what the fuck’, and moved a bit closer, giving up his attempt at getting some coffee to press against Jon’s side and provide what comfort he could.

Jon tried not to sink into it, to stand tall against Elias and his threatening presence.

“There- we-” Jon spoke before actually figuring out what he wanted to say, “m- m- Martin-” a sharp intake of breath, “Martin was attacked and held captive by Jane Prentiss, by- by these worms, a- and, later on Sasha and myself were also attacked by the same creatures-”

As Jon spoke, Elias raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, and in a much more noticeable move, he gave Jon a slow once-over, focusing on the exposed skin and causing Jon to stumble in his words as he stiffened in complete discomfort, Tim yawned in an overly loud way, directing Elias’ attention to him as he leant against Jon, using the smaller one as an armrest.

Jon didn’t bother to push him away as he quickly picked back up, not quite as firm in his words as he’d like, “we- we decided that it would be safer for us to stick together rather than go out alone as it seems as though Prentiss is targeting Archival staff. Sasha is the only one who was injured, but as Martin suffered through a traumatic experience with the captivity, I believe it only right that the both of them have time off to recover.”

“A shame,” Elias spoke, as he placed the file he was holding onto the closest desk to himself, “I will send you the forms for their leave, is there anything else you require?”

“It- um- CO2 kills the worms, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like it if you made sure that the fire suppressant measures would include CO2 in case there are any attempts by Prentiss to access the Institute.”

“Do you believe there will be?”

Jon blinked, “I- I don’t know, but the fact she has targeted the employees, some in their own homes, s- suggests that she may be watching us, and if she decides to come for us here instead of waiting, then I would like to be prepared so that no one else might get hurt.”

Elias’ smile grew wider, “I’m glad you care so much for your staff. I will see what I can do. Will that be all?”

“Um,” Jon bit the inside of his lip, trying to think of anything else he needed to mention.

“Yeah, actually,” Tim’s voice was flat, “why can’t we quit?”

Jon felt great relief as Elias’ gaze moved to focus on Tim, the weight of it lessening enough to let him feel able to breathe again, “what do you mean, Timothy?” Elias asked, his face giving nothing away as he stared.

“I mean, three out of four of us have been attacked by flesh eating worms. We’ve tried to quit but we  _ can’t _ , we physically can’t. The more I pushed myself, the worse I felt until I threw up. Why can’t we quit.”

Elias sighed and reached up, Tim moved his arm so he had a grip on Jon as he stiffened, holding him in a protective grasp, and Elias clapped his hand on Tim’s shoulder in a manner that seemed to be trying to mimic comforting.

“I wish we didn’t have to have this conversation, but unfortunately I do not know why we cannot quit,” Tim startled and Elias continued, “there is… something about the Institute that keeps us here, binds us to it. Fortunately, I don’t have to have this conversation often, it only appears to affect the staff connected directly to the Archives and those within power. At least most people seem to enjoy working here until they retire,” Elias watched them with his smile.

Tim squared his shoulders, effectively knocking Elias’ hand from his shoulder, “so will you fire us?”

Elias’ smile seemed just a bit more forced, “no. I can’t do that as much as you can’t quit. Unfortunately.”

The three of them stood in silence for a moment, watching each other.

“Alright then. Goodbye,” Tim said, pulling Jon into the Archives and towards the break room, leaving Elias in the doorway.

Tim pushed Jon into a seat at the shabby little table they had in there and filled the kettle before turning it on. Jon watched him taking the mugs and the cheap, shitty coffee from the cupboards while he worried at the inside of his lip.

He was interrupted by Tim forcing something wet into his hand, and looking down he saw a circle of thick silicone attached to a string, “chew on that instead, I washed it.”

Jon looked at him, but Tim just turned back to making the drinks and so he brought the necklace to his mouth with only slight embarrassment, chewing it.

Tim sat heavily in the other chair with a sigh and relaxed, placing Jon’s mug in front of him. Jon could still feel the pressure of Elias watching them, although he had already heard Elias’ footsteps retreating back up the stairs, and he couldn’t understand how Tim could relax.

“Okay, Jon, did he  _ really _ lock the door after him when he arrived so he could be revealed like a dramatic movie villain?”

Jon stared at him, processing his words a tad slower than usual, “he- y- yeah. He locked himself in,” Jon chewed harder on the necklace as he thought.

“God what a dramatic bitch,” Tim took a large gulp of his coffee, “why was he even in here? All he did was make us uncomfortable and leave. Fucking arsehole.”

“Oh,” Jon suddenly realised what Tim was doing, acting as though he didn’t know Elias was watching them, and he felt a bit dumb as Tim raised an eyebrow at him over his mug, and Jon tried not to flush, “you- you shouldn’t be so- so rude about our boss-” 

Tim laughed, “it’s not like he can hear me, unless he has bugs around here,” Tim made an overdramatic sweep of the walls, then turned back to Jon with a grin, “c’mon. Call him a bitch.”

“N- No! That’s- th- that’s completely unprofessional!”

Tim’s grin widened as Jon tried to take a sip of his coffee, “no, you know what’s unprofessional? Rolling off the sofa and onto Martin for cuddles.”

Jon choked and spluttered as Tim roared with laughter, "I- I- I move! In- in my sleep!" Jon protested loudly, trying to be heard over Tim's laughter, "it was- was an accident! I- I- I- h- he- I didn't  _ cuddle _ him!"

"Oh sure, and my name's  _ not _ tits!"

"I- wh- wait,  _ what? _ "

Tim was almost vibrating with excitement at the fact Jon hadn't noticed, and he could be the one to break it to him, "my name is tits! Tim Ian Todd Stoker!"

Jon stared at him, looking for all the world like a fish on land trying to breathe, "y- you- you changed your name to spell  _ tits? _ "

"The fucks the point of being trans if you don't change your name to spell swears!" 

Jon stared at Tim, who was grinning so widely it was hurting  _ Jon's  _ face, and he opted instead to down his coffee in one go, and stand up, "just- just go do something Tim."

Tim gave him a mock salute, "aye-aye,  _ first mate _ -"

Jon left Tim to his giggling, moving to his office to collapse at his desk. It had been a long week already, and it was only monday morning.

Jon chews at the necklace Tim lent him, bastard's not getting it back in one piece at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay so
> 
> Tim naming himself that so his initials spell tits?
> 
> I've just put in my name change to give myself my mums last name, and I added some middle names too for fun.  
> I'm now Dante Iliad Cain Keane.  
> But you can call me Mx. Dick- 
> 
> I'm a responsible adult, I swear-
> 
> Next chapter will probably be some little short things to fill time between now and the next Event, just because I Need more found family shenanigans okay-


	8. Interlude part the 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some small things, and an unfortunate mention of Elias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is short cause art fight started (im BlackCat if anyones interested-) and all my creative energy is goin into that, so there most probably wont b another update until next month, n itll b more of these lil short things.
> 
> each section is a different day

There was a sharp knock on Jon's open office door, and he looked up to see Tim stood in the doorway, face alight with glee while staring at his phone, "Jon! You gotta see this!"

Tim didn't wait for Jon to invite him in, he just walked over and plonked himself on top of Jon's paperwork, ignoring his displeased spluttering, and he pushed the phone under Jon's nose, "Sash and Martin have found some older Polaroids and confirmed they're the same people so Sash sent me one of Martin's and  _ look at him! _ "

Jon gave up trying to shove Tim off the desk with a sigh and instead grabbed his phone, tilting his head to look over his glasses at the screen.

The photo showed a younger Martin posed against a white backdrop, his curly hair slightly longer than it currently is, and looking very fashionable.

"Apparently he used to be mates with some art students, and he'd help model for them!" Tim continued, grinning down at Jon.

Jon zoomed in on the image, "is he wearing gold make-up?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose to look at Tim.

"Yep! I think he should wear it now, make him look even hotter."

Jon made a non-committal humming noise, judging attractiveness is not his forte, "it suits him. A lovely look."

Jon held the phone back out to Tim, then jumped as there was a noise from it that sounded like someone strangling bagpipes.

Tim snatched the phone back, his grin tinted with mischievousness, "told you he'd like it!" he crowed into the phone, and the strangled noise came again, this time accompanied with Sasha's laughter.

"Did- are you- are you on  _ call _ with them!" Jon spluttered, his embarrassment making his ears ring to the point that Tim's answer was indistinguishable from the noises from the phone, and he pushed Tim off his desk, the taller man almost crumpling to the floor in his amusement, "just- g- get back to work!" 

-

" _ Help. _ "

The voice was quiet in the early morning, and Sasha squinted through her glasses to try and find the source.

It was Jon, of course, but he wasn't on the sofa like he should be, so she had to try and figure out where his voice was coming from, all she could see was Martin on the air bed next to the sofa, waving at her- no, no that's not Martin waving at her.

She pushed her glasses up her nose and stared.

Jon was lying on the air bed next to Martin, and Martin's arms were wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Help me," he hissed at her as she moved closer to investigate.

Sasha remained silent, still staring. It was far too early for this, and while she doesn't believe in the concept of it being too early, usually she likes to have at least one cup of coffee before having to deal with their bullshit.

"Sasha he won't let go!"

Sasha crouched next to them, remaining silent as she observed the two.

Jon looked rather ruffled, his hair was loose and falling in his face, and his glasses were- well, wherever he put them before sleeping. Martin's grip on his waist had pulled the t-shirt he was sleeping in up, but with the fact that all his sleep clothes were oversized, it barely mattered other than what Sasha was sure would be an uncomfortable pressure of folded fabric against his stomach.

Martin was wrapped in a duvet, as usual, with only his head and arms out, and Jon gripping at his hands, trying to pry them off.

Jon gave Sasha a pleading look, and she relented, reaching out to tug at Martin's arms.

She didn't manage that much though, just shifting his arms slightly, so she stopped and looked Jon in the eye before shrugging and standing back up.

"Don't leave me!" 

Sasha waved at them, and instead continued her trek to the kitchen.

She'll think more about it after she's had her coffee.

  
  


-

  
  


Jon glanced at his laptop as a shrill tone emitted from it, indicating that he had received an email.

He sighed and paused his recording- between a boring email and talking about a man who swears he's being haunted by a glove he lost, Jon would take the boring email anytime.

Far less of a headache.

Clicking over to his Institute email, he re-evaluates his previous sentiment.

Jon is very glad his office door is currently closed, as he would hate for his assistants to see him bury his head in his arms and make a noise that  _ definitely _ wasn't a groan as he debated the merits of deleting the email he had just got from Elias and pretending it hadn't gone through.

He can admit that it  _ would _ be satisfying to claim that to Elias' face and watch  _ him _ have to pretend that he hadn't used his creepy voyeur powers to spy on him deleting his email.

He straightened up though, putting on a mask of professionalism partly because he knew Elias was watching him, and partly for his own sake, giving himself the push he needed to deal with whatever crap Elias was emailing him about now.

If it's another one about how 'not wearing shoes while working is unprofessional' then Jon had decided he was going to go in wearing Tim's fluffy bear feet slippers.

The subject line was unhelpful as usual, just the simple "Important" that heralded all of Elias' emails, regardless of the content's actual importance (which Jon would argue that they  _ never _ warranted the stab of panic seeing an email marked with that gave him, it was already bad enough seeing an email from Elias.)

He tried to ignore the racing of his heart as he opened it, scanning the contents of it.

[Dear Jonathan,

I hope this e-mail finds you well.

I have been reviewing the productivity of the Archives, and even whilst taking into account the authorised absences of two of your staff members, the general productivity of your area has decreased significantly more than is adequate.

Please find a solution for this, otherwise a team meeting with myself will be arranged to discuss matters further.

Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely,

Elias Bouchard

Head of the Magnus Institute

Sent from my iPhone]

Jon tried not to groan out loud, and debates the merits of just going the fuck to sleep.

On one hand, he'd be unconscious and would not have to deal with this, on the other, he would still wake up eventually and have to deal with it.

He stands with a groan, straightening his back after spending however long he had hunched over that statement. God he never feels more like an old man than when his bones crack and creak like that.

He opened his office door and looked out at the near empty room beyond, only Tim was in right now, Martin and Sasha not due back until Monday.

Tim was sat at his desk, working diligently at his computer.

At least, that's what it seemed like from across the room, as Jon walked closer he could hear Tim muttering pleas to not be killed, and Jon realised that he was playing video games during work hours.

"Tim." Jon spoke up icily, standing behind the man's computer and staring him down with his arms folded.

"Boss." Tim replied, distracted as he clicked furiously with his mouse.

When Tim didn't say anymore, nor even look up from his gaming, Jon pushed the lid of his laptop closed, narrowly avoiding trapping Tim's fingers in it.

"Jon! I was fucking busy!" Tim glared up at him, and Jon froze like a deer in the headlights at the genuine anger in Tim's voice, immediately regretting his decision and plotting the quickest way out of the confrontation-

Tim huffed out as he opened his laptop again, and when he looked back at Jon his face was carefully neutral, "you killed me!" he said in a mock accusatory tone, ending it with a small grin that let Jon relax slightly, enough that he could move again.

"S- sorry, but you  _ are _ at work," Jon tried not to fidget with his hands, Tim's sudden outburst had really thrown him off.

Tim just raised an eyebrow at him, "a job where I can't be fired," he reminded him.

"Y- yes, but-" if Jon was being honest with himself, he can't think of any reason for them to actually be working, especially after what they learnt from Gertrude's tapes.

Thankfully though, Tim decided to spare him, "'sides, I did do some work," he gestured to two piles of paper on the side of his desk, one significantly larger than the other, "I think I deserve some Minecraft time."

Jon decided not to question his gaming choices, and instead rounded on the papers, "what did you do?" he asked, glancing at the tops of the piles.

"Sorted 'em into things to do with Prentiss, and things I don't give a shit about."

Jon gave him a deadpan glance, and flipped a few pages over. It appeared that the Prentiss pile was the much smaller one, "this isn't quite what your job is."

Tim shrugged, turning his attention back to his computer, "can't quit, can't be fired. You're lucky I did that much, though I would still do it regardless of being paid if it meant protecting my loved ones."

Jon bit his lip, unsure of what to say, then tentatively, "will you- will you do some research for these ones at least? Elias is complaining about the productivity of the Archives, and it will help us with Prentiss to have the research done too."

Tim was silent for a few moments before he sighed dramatically, "once Sasha's back."

Jon closed his eyes a moment as the sounds of Tim clicking started up again, "alright. Alright," he started back to his office, papers in hand.

Might as well get them recorded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope these lil bits arent too disappointing-  
> id do them as full chapters but i dont like havin a 500 word chapter-
> 
> i have more of these planned to answer some lil things but like i said earlier, all my energy is goin to art n i didnt want this to b dead for a month wiout an explanation-

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter name has A Meaning, I'm not gonna date every chapter like that-


End file.
